


First sight of the staff

by Book_Addict



Category: Children of Blood and Bone - Fandom, Legacy of Orïsha - Tomi Adeyemi
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_Addict/pseuds/Book_Addict
Summary: This is the first time Zélie meets Mama Agba. She is still pretty traumatised by the Raid and isn’t yet sure of herself or her future.





	First sight of the staff

Zélie (aged 13)  
4 years before she meets Amari but 7 years after the raid.

Each breath of the sea curled out of the salty water and arched into a perfect crescent before tumbling down onto the shore, one by one stealing higher up the bay until the far-reaching tendrils stroked against my ankles, sliding back and forth like the pulse of a body.

With a sigh, I fell back, limbs outstretched, and stared up to the gradually brightening sky.

The few freckled patches of stars remaining glowed softly, one by one snatched away by the feathery fingers of pink, red and orange clouds, and the purpling void of sky and space above, until there was only one left; and in turn that too was swallowed.

The pulse of the ocean resounded now from my ankles to my knees, each beat sweeping away streams of sand around my heels. Both my hands were imbedded up to their wrists, each palm softly tickled with the fine grains.  
With my legs in the sea, arms in the sand and mind in the sky, I felt more at peace than I had in the seven years- seven years and a day, now- since the Raid.

All of a sudden, my mind brought me back to it- I could only see the slowly fading night sky as her face, could only see the crimson clouds leaking across the sky as her blood. Tears rolling from my eyes and dripping down my chin, I threw my draped pants off and dived into the icy water in an attempt to clear my mind.

The cold sliced through me, causing me to gasp, but I swam on resolutely. I could never forget that day for long, and in a way I didn’t want to- and yet part of me realised it could be better to let go. However, I never seemed to be able to, and in the end I gave up- I still knew that if I forgot this injustice, I could never fight back.

I dived under the water again, then sprinted my hardest parallel to the coastline, leaving my unpleasant thoughts in the trail of ripples behind me.

Eventually, I slowed to a stop, and turned slowly onto my back, floating above the sea and below the sky, my mind drifting with my body. The swell of the sea rose and fell beneath me, and I closed my eyes and breathed.

I lay there for a long moment- it could have been a minute or an hour.

Either way time seemed to stretch out,

mingling with my senses;

each heartbeat spanned centuries,

each breath soared over millennia.

I don’t know if or when this reverie would have ended if it were not for the distant yet stern cough that jolted me out of my trance and caused my eyes to snap open. Panting slightly, I turned around in the water and gasped when I realised how far I was from the shore.

This was further than the distance we normally fished in- and further than the distance where the closest sea leoponaire to the village had ever been spotted.

The echoing thump of my heartbeat rose to a frantic flutter in my chest and a heavy, dragging weight in the back of my throat. I started to splash towards the shore, and then paused- I had always been told to be careful by the sea, and to think rationally.

Trying again, I began a speedy yet consistent breaststroke back, and as I got closer, I began to distinguish the figure who had warned me more clearly.

Her bald scalp was just visible under a dark pink gele and her sleeves were pushed up to mid-forearm, exposing taut tendons, prominent despite the wrinkled skin. With her lips pursed, eyebrows raised, and arms crossed, she looked like a force to be reckoned with, regardless of her age.

As I reached waist-high water, I turned myself upright and began to wade through the shallows, water streaming from my hair and forming rivulets that danced across my shoulder blades and down my spine.

Her eyes tracked my every movement, searching my face, but I kept my head down and avoided eye contact. It was rare for me not to know someone from Ilorin, but I could tell from the familiarity in her posture that she was a local- as well as the fact that she was out here on the beach at sunrise, instead of sleeping, as any passing visitor would definitely be.

I caught sight of my abandoned clothes, heaped in a pile mingled with sand and stones, and winced, making to cover myself, then reached the land and started to walk towards them.

However, the woman gestured for me to stop. I paused, uncertain, and in my hesitation she cupped my chin with her hand and pulled me towards her. I had no choice now but to look into her eyes.

She looked deep into me, past my confusion, past my fear, into some immeasurable, vital part of me that I could feel squirming inside me under her gaze. On and one she stared, breaking down walls inside me until I felt her touch an area with her mind and eyes that I did not even know existed.

Shivers shifted and shrivelled down my spine, yet I stayed frozen to the spot.

After several minutes, she blinked, and pushed me away by the chin. I scrambled backwards, unsteady on my feet, then groped around for my clothes, putting them on hurriedly and not caring for my appearance. I felt shaken to the core, and more than a little afraid of this woman.

She watched me silently as I dressed, and only when I stood still, unsure of what next to do, did she finally speak. Her words were harsh but clear, and each one that fell from her mouth was crisp and deliberate.

“You are lost, child.”

The hoards of questions that had been pounding in my mind died in my throat.

“Just remember: you are not alone in your losses.”

My eyes narrowed in confusion. “Everyone lost someone in the Raid,” I said hesitantly, “it was a slaughter. No one escaped unaffected, so of course I’m not alone.”

She chuckled at my words, a dry yet in some ways warming sound, like the crackle of flames in a fire, but still with the potential to burn.

“However, Zélie.” She smiled as I jumped at the emphasis of my name. “You lost others, but you also lost more. You do not know yourself anymore.”

I made to protest, but again she stopped me with a gesture.

“You are weak and vulnerable, and are doing nothing about it.

Where is your fighting spirit?”

I sighed, ashamed but also resigned to the way of my world now.

“It died when my Mama and Baba’s did.”

“I don’t believe you,” she snapped, “what was it you were thinking before? ‘I still knew that if I forgot this injustice, I could never fight back’? Your Baba’s fighting spirit may have retreated, if not disappeared, abandoning his living shell, yet your Mama’s died when her body did. Which would you prefer?”

“How dare you speak of my parents like that?” I fumed.

Her pursed lips rose to a wry smile, and she seated herself on the sand, gesturing for me to do the same. I did so, but shuffled away a little, and crossed my arms defensively, waiting for what she had to say. She sighed, hesitating a little, and then spoke, her voice little more than a whisper.

“I grew up with your Mama.”

I gasped, my thoughts for once at loss for what to say. Mama rarely mentioned her childhood, but when she did, it was rarely with affection.

“Her ahéré was a short was down the shore from mine, although not this shore- we lived in Kano, which is further North. Neither of us had siblings, nor supportive parents, so it was not surprising that we grew up as close as we did.”  
She sighed, pausing for a moment, then continued.  
“However, one day, when we were 17 or so, her entire family left without a trace. No one in the whole of Kano knew where they had gone.

“I moved to Ilorin only a year after they left- there was nothing keeping me to the village once your Mama had gone- but it was only when you moved here nearly seven years ago that I learned from bits and pieces what had become of her- and by then, of course, it was too late.”

Her dark eyes sparkled slightly in the rising sun, and a single tear slipped down the side of her nose, outlining the contour of her face until it hung from her chin, then dropped into the sand, forming a small disc of brown in the swathes of yellow.

“I thought I would wait until you had passed your grieving before I told you who I was to her, but it seems you may need help with that, and now you already know who I am anyway.  
“So, I have a proposal: I will help you get back your fighting spirit, on the condition that you put in full effort, and do not mope around any longer feeling sorry for yourself. Agreed?”

I gaped at her- no one else I knew would ever be so bold and insulting as that, especially about the sensitive topic of the raid- but somehow this change of attitude refreshed me, and contrasted with everyone else tiptoeing around one another, trying not to break the spell of silence in which everyone acted as if everything was fine.

I composed myself, realising how I must have looked, and stuck out my hand in a trade-like manner; no haggling was required.  
She took my hand in her warm weathered one, the sea water dripping down between them.

“Good. I hoped you would respond like that. Now,” she continues briskly, “there are two more main things you need to know. First of all, my name: I am Agba. Mama Agba.”  
A small smile escaped her lips.

“And secondly, the method in which I will be teaching your mental prowess- resilience, courage, and forethought- and physical as well.”

She rose, and from her kaftan pulled out a sleek black rod, and gave it a sharp flick. I jumped back to my feet as the rod expanded into a gleaming metal staff.

“Oh my gods,” I breathed out, fighting the urge to shy away. It was a masterpiece, but deadly, and the carvings did nothing to help my fear.

Mama Agba smirked slightly, and pushed down firmly on the staff, causing it to slam back to its former shape.  
“One day, you could be able to use this with mastery, although it will take sweat and tears. This is our own small seed of rebellion that we need to nurture so that we will be able to take a stand someday, when the time comes.”  
She put the rod away with a flourish.

“I will see you in three days in my ahéré- it is on the other side of the village, and has a bright blue-green mat hanging my the doorway. You can find it if you try,” and with that, she turned briskly and strode away, sweeping around the growing numbers on the streets until she was out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all who are reading this :)
> 
> This is my first work so please feel free to leave kudos and/ or comments, and I will really appreciate any constructive criticism too!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also thanks to Dare Matan Ajobiewe- I found your picture of Mama Agba on the internet and thought it was incredible. It helped enormously for me to visualise her face, so thank you for creating it!


End file.
